


Prank Wars

by dumblydor, sonna



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: But mostly because Ronan..... is well... Ronan, Gen, Mild Language, Prank Wars, Pranks and Practical Jokes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-08-11 17:21:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7901227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dumblydor/pseuds/dumblydor, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonna/pseuds/sonna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are bowls of cereal and explosions before 9am. </p><p>Ronan is angry. Gansey is distraught. Noah can't stop cackling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prank Wars

The final bell of the final class rings as Adam writes the final bullet point of his notes. Hurriedly, he shoulders his bag and darts out of the classroom before anyone else has time to begin packing up. If he wasn’t fast, his car-less self would be late for work.

“Adam,” a voice quietly hisses. “Adam!” it repeats urgently when he doesn’t turn right away. Swiveling around, Adam is met with the smudgy look of Noah.

“Oh,” Adam says, his voice a little puzzled and brows knitting, “Hey. Did – what’s up? Are you okay?”

Noah shrugs, his edges blurring and then blurts, “Do you know how to make a firecracker?”

Students are beginning to flood the halls, making rivers around the tiny island of Adam and Noah. The clamor of their noise cutting the sound of Noah’s question.

“What?” a scowl etches under Adam’s freckles.

“A firecracker.”

“WHAT?”

“A firecr-“

“I heard you the second time. Why do you need _a firecracker_?” Adam demands.

Noah shrugs again and, as if it was the most logical explanation, says, “Ronan threw me out the window.”

“I – I don’t follow.”

“Ronan threw me _out the window_.”

“I know. I was there. But... I still don’t understand why you need a firecracker?”

Noah’s grin pulls the dark smudge further up his cheekbone, using the mischievous look settling in his eyes as his answer.

“Well, I mean… I guess I know how to make a firecracker…”

“Bring one to Monmouth tomorrow morning before work?”

Adam eyes Noah reluctantly.

“Please?”

Nodding curtly, Adam says, “I gotta go. I’m going to be late for my shift.”

Somehow, that night, Adam isn’t.

 

* * *

 

Usually without anyone but himself as an audience, it was a pleasant change for Gansey this Saturday morning to have Adam, and now Noah too, listen to his incessant muttering as he pours over his journal at the table.

Adam leans his backside casually against the counter, crossing his arms over the work t-shirt he is wearing. Meanwhile, fuzzy with excitement or anxiety, Noah drifts to Adam’s side. But before they exchange any greetings, a large crash followed closely by violent swearing is heard from Ronan’s room. Gansey continues babbling, unfazed, while Noah smirks at Adam.

The humid Virginia air causes the door to stick as Ronan attempts to let himself out of his room. More violent swearing. There is a grunt. Another crash. As Ronan stumbles through the door frame, the knob and sheer luck are the only things keeping him upright.

“Good morning, Ronan,” Gansey says cheerily, only briefly looking up at Ronan over the top of his glasses.

“Dick,” Ronan grunts, his own sort of greeting.

“Come join us,” Gansey waves a hand and then pats the seat next to him, his eyes shifting back to his journal, “We were having such great conversation.”

With his wife beater askew Ronan, eyes barely open, slumps into the chair nearest to Gansey.

“Have a fun night, Lynch?” Adam teases, “You look--”

“--hungover,” Noah finishes.

“I was going to say _like hell_ but that works too,” Adam grins.

“Shut the fuck up. My head is killing me. The last fucking thing I need right now is your annoying goddamned voices.”

Gansey doesn’t look up from his journal, “Lynch. Language.”

“Yes, mother.” Ronan grumbles, thumping his elbows on the table and resting his forehead in his palms.

“Adam?” Gansey asks.

“Yes?”

“You have work today, yes?”

“No. I only _felt_ like wearing my garage clothes today.”

Noah swallows a giggle. Gansey peers up and purses his lips curtly before returning to his work. “There is milk in the fridge that will go bad in the next day or so. Would you do me the favor of having a bowl of cereal so it doesn’t go to waste?”

“Thank you but I already ate.”

“Please, Blue will have my head knowing I threw out _another_ gallon of milk because it wasn’t consumed in time.”

“Fine,” Adam sighs, pushing off of the counter and making his way to the laundry/kitchen/bathroom. “Anyone else want a bowl?” 

“Thank you for the offer, Adam, but I’m sated. But get Ronan one. He’s had a rough night,” Gansey says his voice whimsical.  

Ronan grunts but it’s undiscernible from being a yes or a no. Noah chips a short laugh, unable to stifle his joy, as he watches Adam bite back a smirk while opening the refrigerator door. “Lynch, I hope Rice Krispies are okay!” Adam calls, Ronan covering his ears.

“Oh he loves Rice Krispies!” Gansey replies.

“So _fucking_ loud,” Ronan hisses, hands still cupped over his ears.

“ _Language_.”

Ronan knows better than to sneer at Gansey so he directs his expression toward the table.

Whistling and sure to make extra noise, Adam takes out the milk and Rice Krispies setting them down before grabbing bowls and spoons. Fixing up the cereal, he slips a small _thing_ into the snap crackle of one of the bowls.

Gingerly, Adam carries the bowls to the table, setting one in front of Ronan. Looking up at the white porcelan in front of him, Ronan grasps the spoon.  Adam, cereal in hand, returns to his post against the counter next to Noah.

Lowering his face closer to the bowl, Ronan spoons up a mound of Rice Krispies.

A piece of cereal falls in slow motion from his spoon back into the bowl.

Ronan begins to open his mouth.

_**POP** _

Milk and cereal bits explode from the bowl. All over Ronan. All over the table. All over Gansey. All over the journal.

Sitting unnervingly still, milk drips from the edge of Ronan’s nose as he speaks slowly, quietly, dangerously, “I. Am. Going. To. Fucking. Kill. You.”

“You’re too late for that,” Noah manages to choke out, wiping an invisible tear from his eye.

“Then maybe Parrish then.”

“Hey, I had nothing--”

“ _MY JOURNAL_!” Gansey squawks. “You got goddamned milk all over _my journal_!”

Ronan stands, brushes the milk from his eyes, and stalks off to the bathroom, “Language, Dick.”

**Author's Note:**

> In true form, Brisa (dumblydor) wanted to title this chapter "Into the Milky Depths," unaware of the potential dual meaning of that phrase.
> 
> The overall title is pretty lame. "Prank Wars" I know. We really stretched ourselves there.
> 
> This is just a series of stand-alone one shots and this particular one was inspired by a vine: https://vine.co/v/MQUEhmEDQtH
> 
> Thank you for reading. We hope you enjoyed it! Comments, kudos, and constructive criticisms are always welcome.


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